Get Right to the Point
by Rina996
Summary: What started out as a story for my friend when she was feeling sick became a huge project that follows the story of Ginny Lestrade (Fem!Greg), Mycroft Holmes, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

~1~

**_Has he got anything? –GL_**

**_Mind Palace, he's been gone for about 2 hours. –JW_**

**_I'm stumped. I've got an awful headache. I sent everyone else home. They've been up for 2 days straight. –GL_**

**_You've been awake for longer than that. –JW_**

**_You worry about your boyfriend, I'm a big girl I can handle myself. –GL_**

**_He's /not/ my boyfriend. –GL_**

**_Right, whatever, I'm wearing patches now so no texts unless he says something. –GL_**

**_You know that's not good for you, right? –JW_**

**_[No Reply]_**

Ginny sat at her desk, mind racing as she examined the photos and files spread before her. Six victims over the past year and a half; all poisoned and cut up post-mortem. She rubbed her eyes, six blood-ridden scenes and no leads and her superiors were pressuring her like hell. She started re-reading the files, writing on the pad she kept on her lap. An hour passed, then two. The words were starting to swim on the page when she heard footsteps. At this hour there were only three people it could be. Security, a janitor or-

"Hello Ginevra." Mycroft Holmes greeted her as he walked in. As usual he was dressed in a well-tailored suit, swinging his umbrella from his wrist. Mycroft constantly made her feel under dressed; especially right now that she was wearing jeans and a blouse. Lost in thought she almost didn't notice that he had a box of doughnuts in one hand and a takeout tray of coffee cups in the other until he put them on the last free bit of space on her desk. "Do you realize it's nearly four in the morning?"

"Mmm." She glanced up as she mumbled in reply, thrown off by the food and his presence. "Working." She couldn't afford distractions and the British Government was definitely distracting Detective Inspector Lestrade. "Did John send you to check on me?" she asked, looking back down at the files in her lap.

"He mentioned you were working late by yourself. He also said you were wearing nicotine patches and that if you didn't eat you would fall ill." He gestured to the doughnuts and coffee as he sat in the chair opposite her desk. "Eat."

"I should, I will. Later." She replied in clipped tones, attempting to focus even as a warm (and hopefully not noticeable) blush crept up her cheeks. "In a little bit, after I finish this file."

"No. You'll eat now." He said it gently but firmly. Standing and closing the file in her hands before taking the pad from her lap. "I've played this game before with Sherlock. One file becomes two, two becomes four. Eat." Ginny looked at the closed file in her hands as she decided whether or not to fight him on it.

"Fine, give it to me." She slumped in her chair as Mycroft smirked and handed her a coffee. "But only because I could use the caffeine." She took a sip, her eyes darting over the papers that remained on her desk.

Mycroft watched her silently, a small smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth. "None of you three have been sleeping." He observed, the smile dropping and his voice lilting with a hint of concern.

"Don't need it on a case; after this is closed I can sleep for a week." She didn't look up as she spoke, her hand reaching another file. However, before she could grab it Mycroft slipped a doughnut into her hand.

"_Eat,_ you can't demand so much of yourself and give your body nothing in return." She shot him a look before taking a bite and reluctantly smiling, chocolate was her favorite.

"Thanks... S'pose I haven't really been eating much lately."

"You're very thin Inspector, starving yourself will do you no good."

She snorted, "Tell that to the media, 'Thin is good' it's the catchphrase of our times."

"It isn't always so good." Mycroft's frown deepened.

"Mhmm." She replied absently, not really registering what he was saying. She was looking at photos of the victims from before their deaths, "They've all lost weight recently…" she trailed off, now looking towards her office ceiling. "Dieting, gyms- all of them?" She chugged the last bit of coffee and shoved the doughnut in her mouth. Mycroft watched Ginny, his mouth slightly agape as she flipped through the papers and pulled out several. Reading them, she nodded and looked up at Mycroft, "Gym memberships, all of them. It's a small connection, but our only one so far." She smiled brightly, "Guess you were right, eating helped."

Mycroft pulled himself together quickly, "Absolutely brilliant."

"A little," Ginny answered cheekily, grinning from ear to ear. She pulled out her mobile, dialed and hit call, "Sure hope John hasn't fallen asleep yet."


	2. Chapter 2

~Ch. 2~

John jumped as his mobile rang, the tune surprising him and Sherlock who was quickly jolted back to reality.

"It better be important." Sherlock snapped, glancing at the clock on the wall, just past 4:30 in the morning.

"It's Ginny, lemme just- Hullo? Yeah."

"Lestrade you interrupted me." Sherlock said, loud enough to be heard through the phone.

"He can't hear you, hold on, I'll put you on speaker." He put the phone down next to his laptop and hit a button, "Okay, go."

_"Sherlock, stop being a prat, we have a connection between the victims."_

"Do you mean besides the fact that they were all female and lived alone?" Sherlock said sarcastically

_"Actually, yes and if you'd stop being such a bloody git for two minutes I could tell you."_

John laughed a bit as he listened to them bickering, "Maybe we could skip the fighting and get right to the point?"

_"That'd probably be best, Inspector." _Came Mycroft's voice through the speaker, _"Your lack of sleep is starting to get to you."_

"Mycroft?" John looked at the phone incredulously before glancing up at Sherlock, who dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"The connection, Lestrade, if you please."

_"Right, it's not much but all the victims had gym memberships, expensive ones. Like I said, not a lot, but it's a connection. Victims two and six both kept calendars, I've got them here and they went regularly. My bet is all of them did." _Her voice crackled and the sound of papers shuffling crackled through the speaker.

"They all went to the same gym?"

_"No and not all of them were owned by the same company I've got a list; I'm emailing it to John right now. I'm gonna keep digging to see if I can find out what kind of schedule they had but I think we're pretty much stuck 'til morning."_

Sherlock nodded, standing abruptly. "John I'll need those locations pinned up, Lestrade make sure you get those schedules as soon as you can."

_"Course, I'm gonna set up a list of gym employees to interview."  
_"Fine." Said Sherlock, pacing.

"You ought to get some sleep Gin, you need it," John said taking the phone off speaker and holding it to his ear. "Yeah, I'll force him down in a bit, he needs it too. Yeah well just be sure Mycroft, you know how she is. Yeah, remind me to slip it into their drinks next time." He laughed, "Night." He hung up and glanced at his laptop, grabbing thumbtacks he started pinning up the locations of the gyms as Sherlock watched. "That's it, six gyms, scattered all around London." He stood, stretching a bit and let Sherlock take a look. Sherlock stood in front of the map his eyes darting from tack to tack.

"Remind me again how they die d."

"Cyanide, swallowed because there were burns on the lips in the mouth and the throat but they weren't forced into it, no signs of struggle. Arms and legs cut off post-mortem but left where they lay, any residue from the cyanide is wiped off with whatever tea towel was lying around and their eyes were all closed." He recited off a sheet in front of him

"What was the cyanide swallowed with? Water?" Sherlock asked, his back turned so John wouldn't see his smirk

"Uhh, no. Their stomachs were empty of everything except- oh that's disgusting blended vegetables."

"Yes, exactly." He turned to John, a glint in his eye as he prepared to rattle off his latest deduction. "Our killer meets his victims at the gym, maybe he works there, more likely he's a patron since they're all different gyms. He becomes close to them, befriends them, offers them workout tips and dieting advice, the blended vegetables- a sort of health drink. He offers to show them how to make it, goes over to their flat and makes it, my bet is if you really looked at the blended mush you'd find slivers of almond and what does cyanide smell like? Bitter almonds. They probably weren't expecting the painful burning sensations and convulsions that go with the almost instant death; he cleans their faces, chops off their arms and legs and waltzes on his merry way."

John gaped at Sherlock, his eyes wide in amazement. "Fantastic."

"Hardly." Said Sherlock standing and walking towards the window, "We've still got no motive and no suspects, the victims had no enemies and every suspect we could dredge up has an alibi or is simply too stupid to have pulled it off." He watched the sky begin to lighten as London stirred in its sleep. "You have to go down to the clinic today."

"Not until about ten." John yawned, closing his laptop. "But you're right, I ought to get some sleep." He stood and stretched, "Are you going to sleep Sherlock? I told Mycroft I'd force you to get some rest."

"Nosy prat, rest assured John I'm heading to bed. " He twitched the curtains shut and strode across the room to shut off the light. "Sleep well, John."

"Yeah, g'night Sherlock." John mumbled, shuffling up the stairs to his bedroom. Sherlock closed his door and lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling for a minute or two. Then he stood again and stripped, wrapping himself in his sheet and falling back onto the pillows. He closed his eyes, a secret smile on his face.

"Fantastic." He whispered, immersing himself in the memory.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny was laughing as she hung up after the call with John, "Did you really just give him permission to _drug_ me and Sherlock if we don't sleep?"

Mycroft arched an eyebrow in what could've been amusement, "Sedate, not drug, Inspector. Very different, and for your own good I might add. Perfectly justified." Ginny grabbed the notepad from her desk and ripped off the top sheet, crumpling it up and throwing it at him. He deflected it easily with his umbrella.

"From now on I better watch what I drink around you and John." She grinned lazily, her sleeplessness catching up with her despite the coffee she'd just drunk.

Mycroft chuckled and stood, noticing her slowed movements and the droop of her eyelids. "Perhaps now you'll agree to get some rest?"

"If I say no I run the risk of being roofied, so sure." She closed the open files and slid them into her desk drawer, stretching she looked out the window, "It's getting light out already."

"Which means you need to sleep." Mycroft insisted, opening the door as she slid on her coat and allowing her to leave first.

"Wow." She gasped in mock surprise, "I'd almost forgotten there was a world outside my office." She giggled giddily as Mycroft closed the door behind them, it clicked as it automatically locked and suddenly Ginny's heartbeat kicked up. Without a desk between her and Mycroft the DI suddenly felt very vulnerable. She toyed with the ends of her hair as she walked alongside him down the hall. They took the stairs down to the car park, Mycroft texting and her chewing her lip.

"Um, thanks for the coffee." She said as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "And the inspiration, I probably wouldn't have made the connection if it wasn't for you."

"Of course." He replied absently, she nodded shyly and opened her mouth to say something more before shutting it again and turning to walk towards her motorbike. Before she could take two steps she tripped, but just before she hit the ground Mycroft reached out and grabbed her elbow, steadying her. He held her there for a moment, slipping his phone into his pocket as she straightened up, before he let go.

"You're exhausted." He said simply, analyzing and deducing, "You can hardly walk, more or less drive _that_ without crashing. I won't allow it." He said with a note of finality.

She stood up straighter, her elbow still tingling from where he'd grabbed her, "I'm fine." She insisted, "And it's not like you can stop me anyway." She turned on her heel and continued walking defiantly, reaching for her keys. She froze when they weren't in her coat pocket and frantically checked all her pockets before turning to ask Mycroft if he'd seen them only to see that he held them in his hand, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"Oh so it's a Holmes thing." She mumbled, "First my badges, now my keys."

"I'm only doing what's best for you, Inspector." He said lightly as a shiny black car pulled up. He pocketed the keys and opened the door, gesturing for her to climb in, "I suggest you don't make it difficult." Once she had slid inside he sat next to her, shutting the door behind him.

There was room in the car, the seats were butter soft leather and Ginny sat leaning against the far window, as much space between her and Mycroft as possible. "You realize how threatening that sounds, don't you?" she said, her face turned to the window. She didn't want him deducing anything about her right now, especially not when they were so close together, almost trapped, in the small space. She'd worked too hard to keep her feelings for him a secret and she wasn't going to let it slip now.

"Normally I say it in threatening situations, so yes." He answered, pulling out his phone again, "Tonight is an exception."

"Thank God," she laughed a bit and turned back to him, "S'pose your driver doesn't need directions to my flat, does he?"

"Unnecessary." He replied, his fingers moving quickly on his phone's keyboard. She sighed and turned back to the window, watching his reflection in the tinted glass before examining her own. Her reddish curls were a frazzled mess, and her roots were greying, she needed a touch up. The bags under her eyes were a smudgy dark color, almost purple and her eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion. She looked as awful as she felt and suddenly she was embarrassed. She rubbed her eyes and lay back against the seat, sighing softly. The rest of the ride passed in silence, nearly half an hour later the car stopped outside a modest flat in a decent part of town. Mycroft climbed out and quickly rounded the car, opening the door for her. She stood and stumbled a bit, Mycroft placed a hand on her arm to balance her.

"Tired?"

"Not really." She glared, yawning loudly. He shook his head and handed her back her keys.

"Will you be alright getting inside?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She realized he still had his hand on her arm she stepped forward, pulling away from his touch. "See? I'm alright." He nodded and stepped out of her way so she could get to her front door. "G'night Mycroft." She yawned again, walking away.

Mycroft stood by the car, leaning on his umbrella and watching her let herself in. Once he was sure she was inside and safe he climbed into the car and sighed, pulling the door shut. He settled back against the seat, his eyes closed. He had a long day ahead of him and he didn't need any distractions, like the wonderful and quickly fading scent of her perfume. He Opened his eyes as the car pulled away and sat up straight as he received a text from his PA

**_Did you tell her goodnight? –A_**

**_No. MH_**

**_With all due respect, sir, you're an idiot. –A_**

**_I know. MH_**


	4. Chapter 4

~4~

Six hours, one cold shower and four cups of hot coffee later found Ginny back in her office, albeit more refreshed and focused than she was earlier. She sat at her desk as John stood across from her, both watching Sherlock tear through the files looking for possible suspects.

"He's like a whirlwind. What time did you get to sleep last night?" she asked John, glancing over at him before looking back at Sherlock.

"Few minutes after we hung up with you, he had his epiphany and sent me to sleep."

"Usually it's the other way around." She chuckled, sipping her coffee (cup number five).

"Well he _did _go to sleep, I heard him as I was going to bed, but he was up by seven so he couldn't have gotten more than two hours. I'm off though, already late as it is."

Sherlock paused briefly to nod goodbye and turned back to the files, speaking once John had left. "He'll be back in about four hours." He said lightly, "It's been slow lately; they won't even be upset that he's as late as he is."

Ginny pulled open the drawers of her desk and pulling out a badge, setting it on top of a stack of files, "You really care about him, don't you?" She asked, "You get concerned for him, constantly check on him, always know where he is. You weren't this worried when Mycroft went _missing _for ten days and came back with a cast on his left arm."

"Mycroft's a git for getting involved in government." he snapped, "John's my friend, why wouldn't I check up on him?"

"I dunno, are we friends? I thought we were friends."

"You're an associate, Lestrade, a good and close one, but nothing more. Caring is not an advantage."

"Yeah, yeah it's a risk." She picked up one of the files he'd tossed, "And John's worth that risk in your mind. Are you sure your feelings for him are purely platonic?"

Sherlock snorted, "Perfectly sure, Lestrade, friends. And he's had a string of girlfriends since he's moved in. I haven't been interested in anyway in the way you're speaking of since I was in Uni." He walked over and placed a file on her desk.

Now it was Ginny's turn to snort as she picked up the file, "Right. Okay. Anyway, we've got gym employees to interview, I've got Anderson's badge for you to use-"

"No need." He cut her off, pulling out a badge and flashing 'Detective Inspector G. Lestrade' at her, the light shining off of it.

She stared as he closed the badge and slid it back into his pocket, "Fuck you, Sherlock." She growled, rifling through her pockets quickly before grabbing Anderson's badge and tucked it away, "Why? Because I suggested you might have feelings for John?"

"Because you were being annoying." He said simply as she followed him down the hall and they climbed inside the lift, sinking down to the car park. As they walked towards the patrol car Sherlock paused by her bike, "You didn't ride it today." He gestured towards it.

She shook her head, keeping her face expressionless, "Your brother dropped me off at my flat last night and I took a cab this morning." Sherlock nodded and they continued to the car, climbing in wordlessly. As she started the car Ginny glanced over at Sherlock, "So you don't have feelings for John?"

"John likes women, Lestrade. You would have a better chance."

"Not in his life." She scoffed, the corners of her mouth turned up in a half smirk as Sherlock turned away from her to face the window, a satisfied smiled gracing his face.


	5. Chapter 5

~5~

"Al-_right! Both _of you, shut _up!_" Ginny shouted at a bickering Sherlock and Donovan. The glass walls of her office practically shook between the two of them shouting, they'd just finished interviewing the witnesses and Sally and Sherlock were having…disagreements. "Sally. _Please_." She pleaded, "Bite his head off later, just leave me the timetables and find me that sketch artist. I need a composite and one of the witnesses is on the edge of a breakdown. "

Sally sighed and nodded, walking out quickly and glaring daggers at Sherlock, leaving a stack of timetables on the desk behind her.

"Lestrade she was _obvi-_"

"I don't care Sherlock, just please shut up for 45 seconds so I can look over these time tables and-" Before she could finish her sentence Sherlock had yanked them out of her hand and was furiously flipping through them

"He spends all his time at gyms." Sherlock proclaimed after a minute

"I figured as much, seeing as that's how he chooses his victims-" Ginny began sarcastically before Sherlock cut her off again

"Lestrade! You're not listening! I mean _all _his time, no job, no social life, he simply hops from gym to gym all day, have you looked at these time tables?"

"Well no you haven't-"

"All these women went to the gym regularly at different times of day, some as late as midnight. Some as early as 5, where does he get the time? And what is he doing? How did your witnesses describe the suspect?"

"All the witnesses described a light skinned man with dark hair and medium height, really I'd rather wait for-"

"Not overly muscular, or extremely thin." He paced, "So he's not constantly working out and that he's been doing this for more than a year. He's getting confident, cocky."

"It could-"

"Don't tell me your witnesses are mistaken, they may be, but he wouldn't be overly muscular, simple as they are they would've noticed _that. _I need another body."

"You _what?_ Sherlock, six deaths is already six too many, we're having a hard enough time trying to keep a lid on this-"

"_Exactly _he assumes no one knows, that he's scot free, there's too many details to his cleanup, he's going to slip up- clean something about clean- oh."

"Oh? Oh what?"

"I need to go, and Donovan is going to need your help with the witnesses, one of them is having a break down." He swept out without another word and Ginny sighed. He was right, Sally would probably be calling her for help in a second, until then she'd appreciate a moment of peace and quiet.

**_Is he still there? –JW_**

_Or_ she could text John. She sighed and reached for her mobile.

**_He just left, he probably caught a cab. Is he not answering his phone? –GL_**

**_No, I've texted him twice and nothing. –JW_**

**_Well he's not here so he'll either be there in a few minutes or he won't. –GL_**

**_Any breakthroughs? –JW_**

**_Sign in logs gave us basic timetables of the victim's workout schedules. Several witnesses describe a vaguely similar suspect. We're putting together a composite so hopefully that gets somewhere. –GL_**

**_Good on you then.- JW_**

**_I suppose. -GL_**

There was a knock on her door and she looked up to see a distressed Sally. 'I'm coming.' She mouthed, and Sally nodded before disappearing around the corner.

**_I've got to go, Sally needs help. One of the witnesses had a break down. -GL_**

**_Sherlock just stormed in, looks like it's going to be a long night. Pub later? -JW_**

**_If you can get away. I'll keep our usual table. -GL_**


	6. Chapter 6

~6~

John climbed out of the cab and paid the fare as he breathed in the cool and refreshing night air. It was his and Ginny's usual night for drinks, a ritual for both of them to blow off steam. As he was about to walk inside his phone vibrated and he scowled, checking it.

**_Don't get too drunk. SH_**

He wasn't going to answer, it was his night _away _and anyway, shouldn't Sherlock be in his mind palace? He had been out like a light when John left fifteen minutes ago.

**_Lestrade isn't interested in you sexually. SH_**

**_I'm sorry, did I read that right? –JW_**

Damn, he hadn't meant to answer, not that he cared. Ginny was more like one of the guys, or another sister, sure she was pretty but- God no, never.

**_I was merely pointing out that Lestrade said she would never engage in coitus with you. SH_**

**_I'm not interested in having sex with Ginny. –JW_**

**_Then why do you two always go out drinking? SH_**

**_Normally you only take a woman out when you want to have sex with her. SH_**

**_Not Ginny. It's just a chance for me to relax Sherlock, to get a break from the flat. –JW_**

**_[Delayed] Oh. SH_**

**_Enjoy yourself. SH_**

**_Right. JW_**

John chuckled as he put his phone away and ordered a pint while he waited for Ginny. She walked in a few minutes later, her hair a bit messed up from her helmet but besides that looking relaxed.

"You beat me." She laughed as she spotted John and slid into the seat across from him, she ordered a soda when John's drink came around, "Witnesses were a hassle. And then I drove my bike so I can't really drink tonight." She shrugged, "What's up with you?"

"Sherlock was texting me." He handed her his phone so she could read over the messages. She scrolled through, bursting out in laughter before handing the phone back, remembering the conversation she and Sherlock had earlier.

"Am I missing the joke?"

"No, well, sort of." She laughed again, "It's hard to explain, is that what he's been thinking about all day?"

"Nah, he was focused on the case when I left, but his main point was that he needs-"

"Another body, right, he mentioned it earlier. I just hope it doesn't have to come to that." Her soda came and she sighed as she sipped it, "The composite was a dud, the sketch was the most generic looking drawing of a person ever. 'Dark blonde or light brown hair, less than six feet tall, no facial hair' ugh." She groaned and covered her face with her hands, "It could be anyone in London."

"Couldn't be Sherlock." John pointed out, trying to make her laugh.

It worked, "True, it couldn't be." She laughed a bit and grinned, sitting back up, her mind wandering.

"Did you get enough sleep last night? Dark circles." He gestured to her eyes

"Hm? Yeah, Mycroft dropped me off just before six and I slept until my alarm rang at ten."

"Why didn't you take your bike?"

"I was sleep deprived; I couldn't take two steps without tripping over my own feet. He was afraid I would crash and kill myself and then there would be no one to put up with Sherlock and give him cases."

"Well I'd put up with him, but I suppose you're right. Now, be honest." He leaned forward, as if he had something very important to say, she mimicked him, listening. "You sure you weren't tripping because you're _head over heels _for the elder Holmes?" John smirked as she smacked his arm hard and pulled back

"Shut up, I'm not head over heels for anyone! I don't have any feelings for him."

"I dunno Gin, you talk an awful lot about him when you're drunk."

"When I'm drunk it's different. I'm _drunk_. Altered state of mind."

"A drunk woman's words are a sober person's thoughts."

"I _don't _fancy him! He's..shaggable, that's all. Nice arse."

"Right, okay. I'm supposed to believe that you'd just fuck Mycroft Holmes and leave without any emotional repercussions."

"Damn straight. Anyway, how's Samantha doing?" she said, swiftly changing the subject.

John winced a little, "You know that's been over for a month."

"And why's that?" she listened to him mumble something incomprehensible, "Right, too much Sherlock." She smirked, "You always going on about how _brilliant _he is, or being interrupted during dates by a text to get to a crime scene, right?"

"That is the _last _time I date one of your team members." He scowled

"All the better, it's bad enough with Sally and Anderson, I don't need any more of that on my scenes."

"Doesn't his wife know?"

"Of course." Ginny finished her soda and stirred the ice, "But she cheats on him too, that's why they got married. Because they could be disloyal without complications." She stared at the bottom of her glass and then the walls.

John picked up on her change in thoughts, "I'm so sorry, Gin." He put a hand on her shoulder, she'd been officially divorced for several months but it still sat on her heart like a fresh scar.

"It's fine." She mumbled, shaking off his hand, she paused before looking up at him, a teasing glint in her eye. "Maybe a _few_ emotional repercussions."

John looked at her, dumbfounded for a second before he burst out in laughter, remembering what they'd been talking about.

"No really, but only because I'm so nice and we work together. Sort of." She grinned

"Admit it."

"There's nothing to admit."

"Fine, you win, you _don't _fancy Mycroft."

"Nope." She smiled brightly, all too aware that she was lying. "Not a bit."


	7. Chapter 7

~7~

Sherlock lay on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. He only had 2 patches on his forearm, this wasn't a 3 path problem. Not yet.

He had a suspicion about the suspect. Making his own deductions and drawing his own conclusions from the gyms they'd been through today. The thing that bothered Sherlock was he couldn't pinpoint the murderer's state of mind. Cold and calculating? Hired and trained? The scales were tipping in favor of insanity but the cleanup routine was too precise. But the habits were sporadic and the schedules…

His thoughts became quicker, the subject growing broader, try as he might he couldn't pull anything new- he _needed _another body, despite Lestrade's protests. There was a mistake on the horizon; anyone else would call it intuition. Sherlock knew it was simply the statistics of someone like their killer, the obsessive tendencies to clean up the blood and body, wiping the foamy residue of the cyanide off their mouths- too much maintenance. He _had_ to mess up and future victim seven was the perfect place to do that.

Having pulled what he could from that Sherlock's mind turned to his other problem, this one closer to home.

"John." His flat mate's name fell from his lips like a dying man's last breath. Sherlock had quietly pushed all non-platonic thoughts and feelings of John aside in a dark part of his mind palace. But times like now when he was alone or didn't have a case, couldn't _think _about the case, he allowed those thoughts to sneak to the forefront of his mind.

Yes Lestrade had been right when she suggested his feelings were beyond platonic, how she'd figured it out he would never guess. But it didn't matter. He'd never admit it, not out loud. He'd blocked off emotions a long time ago, after Uni, after he'd gotten clean. Emotions were what got him into the drugs, so most emotions were under lock and key and hidden in shadow.

He allowed his mind the rare treat of wandering aimlessly and they were all about John, his smile, the tilt of his head, the way he looked in the morning before his first cup of coffee. Sherlock had been tempted so many times to run a hand his hair, hug him close, push him against the wall and kiss him slowly, keeping it sweet. He hadn't kissed anyone since his days on the street, a space of literally years. He used to enjoy it immensely and with John it-

He cut his thoughts off, John was straight, he liked women. He brought his girlfriends to the flat from time to time, never for long, and he spent the night with them often. Not with the last girlfriend…or the one before her, but before _her _he'd spent quite a few nights out. And every single night that Sherlock knew John was away, not sleeping in his upstairs bed- _alone_ made him feel a few pinpricks of envy in his stomach.

But John had been home lately, and Samantha had tossed him last month, of course that drove John to rant and rave at Sherlock, again, but Sherlock (who didn't really _mean _to drive them apart) was nonetheless grateful that his John was home.

He stood and walked towards the kitchen with the intention of making himself a cup of tea, he didn't _want _it, but it reminded him of John. He'd already put the kettle to boil when he opened the fridge to check his current experiment, maggots and a pair of human lungs, when he noticed that they were nearly out of milk (again). He chuckled softly to himself as he recalled John bemoaning the fact that Sherlock never bought groceries. He paused and straightened up, shutting the fridge and turning off the kettle before walking to his room and getting dressed.

After he was dressed he double checked the kettle and he grabbed his coat and scarf off the rack and bundled up as he locked the flat so he could rush to the corner store before they closed shop for the night.


End file.
